I will begin by referencing my student Kim Kyeong-Yeol. His English name is Anthony. Owner of a master’s degree from Seoul National University, he is trying to get admitted to an American institution where he hopes to earn a Ph.D. in sports management. Anthony, age 30, is a strapping young man who spent three years as a pro soccer player; what we have in common is that we are both jocks. He comes to my apartment once a week and we endeavor to improve his English.
Often—maybe too often—I find myself asking Anthony a certain question: “Are you getting any exercise these days? When’s the last time you worked out?” Inevitably, a sheepish smile crosses his handsome face. He is honest in saying no and then giving his reasons—busy with intensive studying to pass the TOEFL and GRE so he can head to the States and doctoral work. There is also the matter of the three major knee operations he had during his days as a soccer player. Although I have never tried to make him feel guilty, I simply do not understand.
Being an athlete is a big part of who I am. This goes back to when I was a boy in Dallas; my brothers, friends and I were always running, jumping and playing games. Sports—all the way through school days, UT in the early and mid-1970s and into adulthood. Of course, when was the last time I played tackle football? Or baseball, or basketball? Those things are gone, I realize. But I still run and bike, and in the summer I occasionally visit a swimming pool. While I am somewhat less fanatical than before, I get a good workout almost every day of the year. I seem to like it, need it and value it more now than ever before. I can hardly do without cardiovascular exercise. This is a key part of my circadian rhythms.
Please permit a slight diversion. In 1995, I had gone up to Boston to run in that city’s famous marathon. A day before the race, I took the subway to Cambridge so I could experience Harvard University. Close to the campus, I stopped in a book store and found myself flipping through a magazine about tattoos, of all things. As I have stated elsewhere, I abhor tattoos. You will never see me getting inked up! Anyway, one article in the magazine called tattooing “self-appreciation.” I nearly burst out laughing upon reading that. What I would be doing the following day—my time was 3:09:16, and I came in 1,745th overall—was what I consider self-appreciation. It was real and tangible, and I still treasure the memory of crossing the finish line on Boylston Street more than 20 years later.
I have been a resident of the Gangnam district of Seoul since early 2009, and let me tell you it’s not the ideal place for running. The air is bad, the back streets are narrow, and traffic is thick. I am an oddity here, but I will not be deterred. I have to run. I set the alarm for 5:30 and am usually out the door in half an hour. I run south to Yeoksam Elementary School and do five laps on its track, then east a few blocks before returning to my apartment. I estimate it is about two miles. OK, I fully admit I am not going far. Nor am I going fast.
I am 62 years old, and running used to be so much easier. When I was Anthony’s age, for example, I ran faster and with considerably more energy. There was spring in every step. But that does not last forever. I recall a particular day in Travis Heights (Austin), circa 1998. I realized I was dragging. What had happened, I asked? The answer was obvious—I was older and doing this athletic stuff was challenging as never before. I could see why so many people quit when they reach middle age. Now, this is a very important point. I was not going to stop unless I had to. Arthritic feet, ankles or knees would have compelled me to give up running. Fortunately, I do not have such problems. Yes, both of my knees have been arthroscopically repaired (left one in 1999, right one in 2012) but those were minor surgeries.
If I have learned anything, it is to have a positive and thankful attitude. I am deeply grateful to be able to do my daily 2-milers. Don’t tell me it’s not a workout. It’s a workout. I get my heart and lungs pumping, my muscles, joints and so forth. Running has been proven to strengthen the bones. They say that exercise releases endorphins throughout the body which causes a sensation resembling euphoria, and I feel it every morning when I run.
Weather? I run if it is hot, cold, rainy, snowy or what have you. Being out among the elements is a part of the experience, you see.
But that’s not all. I come inside and do some light weight lifting mixed with stretching. Oh, I savor stretching! Often I find myself holding a stretch for an inordinately long time because it feels so good, and I am in a reverie of sorts. It’s during those stretches, when I am still breathing hard, that I ponder my existence. I feel joy, real joy. It's great to know that even now, at age 62, I can do a vigorous workout every morning. This is reason for celebration.
There is a side-benefit to a lifetime of exercising: it makes me look good. I am no Adonis, but I confess that I like having muscle tone and a body that fits well into the suits I wear to the office. Furthermore, my casual attire is that of a jock, a guy who has always been an athlete and would have it no other way.
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